


Anchor

by robotjellyfish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Hurt and comfort, M/M, prolonged hand holding, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotjellyfish/pseuds/robotjellyfish
Summary: Shiro wakes from a nightmare that is the memories of his past. The haunt him, chase him from the comfort of a bed and he is granted no rest. He needs something to hold onto. Something to drag him out of the nightmares and into the light.He finds it in the most unexpected place.





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick little fic based off one of SirSin's tweets that I immediately fell in love with because I am weak for hand holding gosh darn. Thank you for letting me play with this idea. 
> 
> This was a little more angsty than I intended, but hopefully the fluff at the end makes up for it. Hope you enjoy it.

Shiro woke with a start, a strangle scream catching in his throat. Trembling fingers dragged through sweat-soaked hair, yanking on it, grounding himself back into reality. This wasn’t the Gladiator ring. He was safe.   
  
It didn’t rid him of the nightmares looming shadow, so real he could still smell seared flesh and taste the tang of another’s blood on his tongue.   
  
Thin sheets tangled around his legs, tight and restrictive. They were trying to hold him down, trap him. Frantically he kicked at them, but only got more tangled in the process until snatched the sheets with his prosthetic hand and tore them. He didn’t care that the fabric ripped. He was free.   
  
Crawling out of bed Shiro stumbled to the door, leaving the dark, stifling room where he saw danger lurk in every shadow, no matter how he tried to convince himself he was ‘safe’.   
  
It wasn’t unusual for him to wake from a nightmare, but this was one of his worse episodes. His heart raced, pumping his body full of adrenalin that told him to run, he had to run. Sweat dripped down his face and the back of his neck soaking the thin t-shirt he wore making it stick to his skin unpleasantly.   
  
He found himself in the lounge, with no intention of going there, only wanting to get away. But it was night, the lounge was empty and the bright artificial lights that flooded the room the moment he stepped in chased away any threat of looming shadows. It would do.  
  
Slumping down on the curved sofa Shiro sank into the welcoming cushions taking a moment to catch his breath.   
  
‘I’m the Pilot of the Black Lion. I am a Paladin. I have allies fighting alongside me. I’m free.’ He repeated the same mantra he always did, focusing his mind on these facts until his heart started to beat normally again.   
  
“Shiro?”   
  
His heart squeezed in his chest, skipping a beat. No. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this.   
  
“Lance, why aren’t you in bed?” Shiro demanded, attempting to sound stern. Like a leader.   
  
Lance wasn’t having any of it, of course. He was always challenging him when Shiro least wanted it (but probably when he needed it the most).   
  
“I wanted a glass of water. What about you?” The Blue paladin shot back, eyebrow arched challengingly. He looked comfortable and confident standing there, hip cocked and the usual soft blue robe wrapped around his lanky frame.   
  
“Just thinking,” Shiro answered nonchalantly, hoping that would be enough.  
  
Lance plopped down next to him on the couch. “What ‘cha thinkin’ about?”   
  
“Future battle plans. Strategy. Leader stuff.”   
  
“Anything I can help with?” Lance asked leaning closer, always so eager to help. Someone as innocent as him shouldn’t be here, fighting this war. None of them should. Shiro’s gut clenched.   
  
“No.” The refusal was harsher than he intended and it showed in the flash of hurt that crossed Lance’s face.   
  
“It’s just more ‘what if’ scenarios at the moment, nothing serious. I’ll let you know when I have a more solid idea,” he promised.   
  
Lance didn’t look entirely convinced, and there was a shadow to his eyes that suggested he didn’t quite believe Shiro would ever ask him for help. It made the knot in the other man’s gut tighten.  
  
“Cool. Well, any time you want to bend my ear give me a shout.” It was almost a plea.   
  
Shiro hoped that Lance would leave after that, even though he knew he should clarify that he saw the young man as a crucial member of the team and that he valued his opinion, but he just wasn’t in the right state of mind. If he tried to comfort Lance now, he’d probably make things worse. It was selfish, but he wasn’t even going to try.   
  
“You’re shivering. Are you cold? You can borrow my robe if you want,” Lance said already in the process shrugging his signature blue robe off.   
  
It wasn’t the cold that made Shiro shiver, even though the sweat drying on his skin made the chill of the room sink deep into his bones. He hardly noticed it. “I’m not cold,” he said softly, a crack forming.   
  
Lance froze and sank down next to him.   
  
Shiro expected a laugh, maybe even contempt. Certainly some awkwardness. What he didn’t expect was to feel Lance’s fingers trail down his arm, push into his palm and lace with his own. His hand jerked in Lance’s grip, sure the other man would find his sweaty palm gross, but Lance squeezed his hand tighter and did not let go.   
  
“I used to be afraid of the monster under my bed. I had nightmares every night for weeks in a row. They'd come out and drag me under the bed, take me away and I’d never see my family again.”   
  
Shiro stared at him.  
  
“I was five. Don’t tell me you weren’t scared of the monsters under your bed when you were five,” Lance said matter of factly. His thumb swiped against the back of Shiro's hand. His skin was still so soft and free of calluses.   
  
“...I was afraid of the one in my wardrobe more.”  
  
Lance laughed and pulled Shiro’s hand into his lap. “Ok, that one was pretty scary too. But for me, it was the monster under my bed. It got so bad I stayed up all night curled up in the middle of my bed with a flashlight, and a blanket draped over my head.”   
  
The image Lance painted then made Shiro’s heart ache, and he squeezed the other man’s hand.   
  
Lance smiled, his thumb rubbing the back of Shiro’s hand again. “I was so tired the next day I kept falling asleep in class, so the teacher sent me home. My parents were really worried, but I couldn’t tell them what I was scared of. I was afraid the monster would come to take them away if I did.”   
  
He laughed, shaking his head. “Kinda stupid now I know.”  
  
“I was afraid of the monster in my wardrobe would steal all my toys if I told anyone,” Shiro admitted. Lance smiled, and nudge Shiro with his elbow. He leaned closer, body curled against Shiro's side a warm, solid weight.  
  
“Anyway, that night I was curled up in bed again, too afraid to sleep and Veronica came into my room. She sat on the edge of my bed and refused to leave until I told her what was wrong. When I told her, she didn’t laugh at me or call me silly, and Veronica was old enough then to know that the monsters weren’t real. She crawled under the covers with me and held onto my hand just like this,” Lance lifted their joint hands and wiggled his fingers against Shiro's.   
  
“She squeezed my hand so tight it hurt, and then she told me that if I was that scared, then she’d stay with me. She’d hold my hand all night, so even if the monsters came to get me, they couldn’t take me away because she was holding onto me, and she was stronger than the monster.”   
  
He dropped their hands onto his lap, his grip on Shiro’s hand loosening but not letting go.   
  
“She slept with me several nights after that, holding my hand, and it helped me feel braver until I wasn’t afraid of the monster any more. I knew Veronica would protect me. Even now, just holding someone’s hand makes me feel more relaxed when I’m anxious or scared.”   
  
He looked up at Shiro, eyes soft with understanding and concern. He didn’t pry, or demand to know what had frightened the other man. There was no judgement, only the offer of a warm, supportive hand.   
  
Shiro threaded his fingers with Lance’s more firmly and pulled his hand towards him. “Thank you.”   
  
“Now. You should get some sleep. Can’t have our brave leader falling asleep in his lion.”   
  
Shiro gave a gruff laugh and closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired, but the images were still there, just behind his eyelids and although the warmth of Lance’s hand kept them at bay he knew that the moment he let go they would return.  
  
“I’ll be fine. I have some things I need to do. You should go to bed.” There was no sense in both of them losing a nights sleep. He tried to let go, slip his hand out of Lance’s grip, but the other man caught him before he could escape.   
  
“Oh no, you don’t.” Lance jumped to his feet and yanked on Shiro’s hand, and Shiro did not have the strength or will to refuse. He could only follow where Lance’s hand led him.  
  
“This is your room,” Shiro said as they came to a stop outside Lance’s bedroom. He took a step back, his grip slackening, but Lance only pulled on his hand again.   
  
“Relax Shiro, it’s not like I’m inviting you back for coffee,” he teased with a playful wink that made Shiro’s heart flutter.   
  
Lance dragged him into his room, over to the bed where he let go of Shiro's hand only on shove him down on it. At that moment Shiro felt lost like a boat cut loose from its moorings with no one on board. He curled his hand into a fist clinging to the lingering warmth there. He lay down on the bed and curled up against the wall, making himself as small as possible.   
  
“Make yourself comfy, I just need to get this off,” Lance grumbled as he shrugged off his robe, momentarily getting his arm caught in one of the sleeves. He cursed, shook it thoroughly and finally managed to untangle himself dumping the robe on the floor.   
  
“Right, I’m going to turn the light off-”  
  
“Wait, can you leave it on?” He felt stupid asking and shame heated his cheeks. He was a grown man for crying out loud. How could he be afraid of the dark? “I mean you don’t have to, forget it.”  
  
Lance flopped down onto the edge of the bed. The light was still on. “It's fine. I'm just going to need this,” he said, snatching up a sleep mask. He snapped it over his eyes before falling down next to Shiro, the narrow single bed forcing them to curl up close.   
  
“Right, give me some skin!” Lance held out his hand, palm up, waiting. For a moment Shiro could only stare at that hand and marvel at the support and trust it offered. Lance was effectively blindfolded, and yet he trusted him completely. What had he done to earn the young man’s faith so completely?   
  
Shiro slipped his hand into Lance’s, and their fingers laced together once more, anchoring Shiro in the safety and warmth of Lance's bed. No nightmares could get to him here.   
  
Lance shifted, rolling

onto his side, towards Shiro, trying to find a comfortable position in the confined space. With the mask on he couldn’t see how close they were, but Shiro could. So close the gentle spill of Lance’s hair across the pillow tickled Shiro’s nose, and he could feel the other's breath ghost across his cheek.   
  
His palm was getting sweaty again, but it wasn’t the nightmares now.   
  
“Night Shiro,” Lance yawned.   
  
“Good night, Lance.”   
  
And he was out like a light, breathing evening out to the soft tune of sleep. But even fast asleep Lance’s grip on his hand didn’t lessen.  
  
The fluorescent lights in the room bathed Lance in a harsh glow, illuminating all his imperfections. The pillow crease on his cheek, and the drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Everything that made him safe and comforting. Shiro's protector.   
  
Shiro smiled to himself, wondering how Lance would feel if he knew, right then, he thought Lance looked the most beautiful he ever had. Slowly he lifted their entwined hands, watching Lance's face searching for any sign of disturbance.   
  
Lance snorted, muttered something in his sleep, and slept on.   
  
Letting out a breath Shiro pressed a quick kiss to the slender fingers caging his own. Holding him tight so he wouldn’t fall.   
  
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, brushing another kiss over Lance’s knuckles before he closed his eyes, and fell into gentle dreams where there was always someone by his side.

  
When they woke the next morning, they were still holding hands.   
  
  
  
  



End file.
